Just Torture
by Hedgehog JW
Summary: He saw the words Sherlock Holmes printed on the folded paper. His mind filled with dread as he opened it and saw a picture of John, tied to a chair. He looked OK but the words below suggested he wouldn't stay that way for long. "Are you missing a flat mate? Dr Watson is fine for the moment but it's going to be fun making him suffer. I hope you enjoy my updates."
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock sat in 221b Baker Street looking over the pieces of his latest case. He'd been at it some time, talking it over with his friend John Watson. Well, he'd been talking at his friend, John wasn't answering. In fact John wasn't even there. Quite some time had gone by before Sherlock had realised. He'd text John but he hadn't received a reply. That's unusual, he thought, he normally got a response even if it was just to tell him to piss off. Still he hadn't got time to think about that now, he could explain it all to John later. Right now he was on the trail of a criminal and that was all he could think about.

It was a few hours and a lot more unanswered texts before Sherlock realised something was wrong. John had always responded by now, he couldn't help himself, even when he was mad. Sherlock couldn't understand it, where was his blogger when he needed him? He didn't like to admit it but he was starting to get a little worried.

Sherlock decided to take his mind off things by getting Lestrade to come with him to confront his latest adversary. It wouldn't be the same of course but it would have to do. John would turn up later having missed the excitement but what could he do? This criminal needed to be apprehended, he couldn't be waiting around for John to decide to reply to his many texts.

When Sherlock returned a few hours later the flat was still in darkness. Immediately his worries from earlier returned. He text John before he'd even removed his coat and when he'd had no reply half an hour later he did something he never did, he phoned him. There was no answer. Sherlock had no idea what to do next so he made a second call, this time to Lestrade.

"Sherlock is everything OK?" the panicked voice on the other end of the phone asked immediately. Lestrade knew that if Sherlock was actually making a phone call then it had to be urgent.

"Have you heard from John?"

"No. Is he still not back?"

"No and he's not answering my texts. I even called him but he didn't answer. He always answers me."

Lestrade gave a small laugh "I'm sure he's fine Sherlock. Perhaps he's lost his phone and that's why he's not answering. Let me know in the morning if you've still not heard anything. OK?"

"Alright." Sherlock sighed as he hung up. He got himself a cup of tea and sat in the living room like an anxious parent waiting for their child to come home.

On the other side of London John Watson was starting to stir. As he regained consciousness he felt a throbbing pain in the back of his head. Where am I? What happened, he wondered. He tried to move but he couldn't. He slowly opened his eyes, the bright light sent more pain through his head and he squeezed them shut again. He took a deep breath and fought against the pain as he opened his eyes once more and tried desperately to keep them open and take in his surroundings. He found he was sat in the middle of a large, bare room, tied to a heavy wooden chair.

As he looked around he noticed a man stood at one end of the room. John studied him. The man was taller than him but shorter than Sherlock, so about 5 foot 10 he estimated. He was of quite a heavy build and had short, dark brown hair. John noticed a strap across the back of his head and was just trying to figure out what it was when the man turned round to face him. He was wearing a mask, only a cheap Halloween mask but it served its purpose, John thought, he couldn't identify him. And gloves, so no finger prints around the place. So this was planned then. John was jolted from his thoughts when the man spoke.

"Decided to join me at last Dr Watson." the man said. He had a deep voice and was local John realised from his accent. The man walked towards him as John still struggled to keep his eyes open. His head was swimming and the throbbing pain wasn't easing either.

"How's the head?" the man asked. John just groaned slightly. "Yeah, sorry about that. Was the quickest way to subdue you and get you off the street." John squinted as he started to remember walking past a van with a workman stood by the side of it. The side loading door had been open. As he'd walked past, John had felt a pain in his head and then nothing until waking up here.

"Mind you" the man continued "it's nothing to the pain you're going to suffer while we wait for your friend."

"What? Who are you? What do you want?" John questioned but the man just took a photo of him and then turned to leave.

As he got to the door he turned "Oh and you can yell as much as you like, there's no one around to hear you." and with that he was gone.

For a moment John just stared after him until his instincts started to kick in and his thoughts turned to escaping. He pulled at his restraints but it was no use. He tried to move the chair but it wouldn't budge. He looked down and noticed there were large metal brackets securing it to the concrete floor. He wasn't going anywhere he realised. As he sat looking round the room for something, anything that might help him he started to think about Sherlock. He must have realised something was wrong by now. He'd be looking for him, John was certain of it. He sighed and resigned himself to a long, uncomfortable night.

Sherlock woke from a fitful sleep. He'd spent the night dozing in his chair in the living room, waiting for John to come home but he hadn't. Sherlock was certain something was wrong. He reached for his phone and dialled John's number but there was nothing, it wasn't even ringing anymore. He sighed, stood up, stretched and started pacing the room thinking through different ways to find his friend.

From downstairs he heard Mrs Hudson's voice yell his name. He huffed. He had far more important things to worry about than her. "Not now Mrs Hudson." he shouted but he could hear her running up the stairs.

"Sherlock!" she was still calling. He strode across the room, annoyed at her persistence and pulled open the door with every intention of telling her exactly what he thought of her interruption. But as he opened the door and saw the frightened look on her face and the piece of paper in her shaking hand he knew something was very wrong. She thrust the paper towards him with tears in her eyes. "Oh Sherlock" she muttered "It's John..."

She didn't manage another word before Sherlock snatched the paper from her hand as he turned and went back inside the flat. She followed. He saw the words Sherlock Holmes printed on the folded paper. His mind filled with dread as he opened it and saw a picture of John, tied to a chair. He looked OK but the words below suggested he wouldn't stay that way for long. "Are you missing a flat mate? Dr Watson is fine for the moment but it's going to be fun making him suffer. I hope you enjoy my updates."


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock stood, staring at the paper until Mrs Hudson brought him back to reality. "Oh Sherlock. What are you going to do?"

"Hm?" he looked up and saw the landlady's frightened face. "I'm going to find him Mrs Hudson that's what." He managed a weak smile to try and reassure her. "Now why don't you give me some space so I can work?" he asked. He needed to think. He had no idea how he was going to help John but he couldn't let her see that. Mrs Hudson nodded and left Sherlock alone.

When she was gone he rushed over to his desk and grabbed his magnifying glass he needed to find something, anything to help him. Everything on the paper was printed and that didn't help. You could tell things from people's handwriting but not from a computer printed document. Of course he would analyse the ink but he suspected it would be a mass produced type that he'd never be able to trace. He examined the photo. The room looked like it was in an old industrial building but there were hundreds of them in and around London. He would ask his homeless network to keep a lookout though, you never know he might get lucky.

His mind was whirling through all the possibilities when his phone rang. He grabbed at it hoping it would be the kidnapper, hoping it would give him some clue to help find John but it was Lestrade. "What do you want?" he snapped.

"Good morning to you too, Sherlock." Lestrade laughed "I was just calling to see if John had made it home yet."

"No he hasn't and he won't if you keep me talking. I need to find him."

"What? Why do you need to find him? What's going on Sherlock?"

"John has been kidnapped. I have a note."

"OK I'm on my way."

"Don't bother I won't be here."

"Sherlock if you know something you need to tell me. Don't go after him on your own. I can help."

"No, I mean I won't be at Baker Street. Meet me at Barts if you really want to help."

"Of course I want to help." Lestrade told him firmly and the phone went dead.

Sherlock sighed. He really hoped John was safe but right now there was nothing he could do but work on the note, it was all he had.

John was dozing in the chair when the man returned. Immediately he heard the door open he was awake and alert, watching for his chance to make a move if it should come. "Morning Dr Watson or maybe I should call you John. Dr Watson seems so formal and you are going to be here for some time." He was wearing the same mask as yesterday John noticed. He walked across the room and started to set up a video camera on a tripod. John watched intently wondering what his plan was but it would soon become all too clear.

Sherlock was starting to analyse the ink from the note when Lestrade arrived. "So what's going on?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock just handed the note over and carried on with what he was doing. "Oh God Sherlock. Have you got any ideas who this might be?"

"None yet."

"So what do you know?"

Sherlock dropped his head. He hated to say it but he knew nothing. The one time he needed to be able to solve a case quickly and he had no idea where to start. He looked at Lestrade. "John left Baker Street about 11 am yesterday and I haven't heard from him since. The note was delivered by hand about 8.30 am this morning. The paper is common printer paper used by thousands of people. I'm analysing the ink but I suspect that will be the same. The room John is kept in is an old industrial building like hundreds all across London. My homeless network are out looking but it could take weeks with nothing else to go on."

He dropped his head again. Lestrade could see the worry and frustration on his face. "OK so I'll get my team to get a warrant and access the CCTV footage around Baker Street at the time John left and the time the note arrived, see if we can find anything." Lestrade took out his phone.

"No don't." Sherlock told him. He couldn't believe he hadn't done this sooner.

"What? Why not? Surely it couldn't hurt?"

"I can get the information quicker."

Sherlock picked up his phone and dialled a number. "Hello brother dear" the voice on the other end crooned.

"Mycroft I need your help. John has been kidnapped and I need some CCTV footage."

This time Mycroft's voice was totally business like when he spoke. "What do you need Sherlock."

Sherlock explained to his brother that he needed CCTV footage from around Baker Street at the time of John's disappearance and the time the note was delivered.

"Of course. I'll have it brought to Baker Street immediately."

"No, I'm at Barts."

"Alright then, Barts." And with that Mycroft was gone.

Sherlock gave a small smile. For all their bickering he knew that he could count on his big brother when he needed him.

Within half an hour a man in a suit had delivered a box of discs with all the CCTV footage Sherlock had requested. Sherlock had already analysed the ink on the letter to discover what he already suspected, the ink was common place and untraceable so he and Lestrade got to work.

They started with the 11 am footage from yesterday and soon found John walking down Baker Street. They followed him as he passed a white van and then disappeared. Within seconds the van drove away. Lestrade looked at Sherlock "Can you read the registration?" Sherlock rewound the footage and froze it on the van. Lestrade picked up his phone and dialled. "Donovan I want you to trace a white Ford van registration DX54 VWN." For a moment there was silence and then Sherlock heard him say "Never mind why just do it." As he finished the call he looked at Sherlock "It shouldn't take long and then at least we have somewhere to start."

They then turned their attention to 8.30 am and saw a man in a black hoodie approach 221B. He was average height and of a stocky build but it was impossible to see his face with his hood up. He had a carrier bag in his hand. They watched him walk down Baker Street and into the tube station. Lestrade rummaged in the box of discs until he found one labelled tube station footage. "Your brother thought of everything didn't he?" he said to Sherlock as he handed him the disc.

They found the man on the next disc and followed him as he entered the toilets but never came back out. Lestrade sat looking confused for a moment until Sherlock muttered "The bag. Of course. He had a change of clothes. He knew I'd watch the CCTV footage." He banged his fists on the table in frustration.

"We'll find him Sherlock." Lestrade told him placing a hand on his arm trying to comfort him a little. He'd barely finished the sentence when Sherlock's phone rang.

Lestrade watched as Sherlock grabbed for it. "John?!" he exclaimed.


	3. Chapter 3

As the man finished setting up the video camera he spoke. "Well John, now the fun begins. My fun anyway." John saw him press the record button before he turned round. "All you get is pain I'm afraid up until I think Sherlock has had enough. And I don't think I could ever make Sherlock Holmes suffer enough." He almost spat the last sentence. John could hear the hate in his voice.

John struggled against his restraints. He wasn't sure what was coming but he knew it wasn't going to be good. "You can struggle all you want John but it won't do you any good." He walked over to John and then turned to address the camera. "Well Sherlock I hope you liked my little note but I thought that for the updates watching your friend suffer would be so much more fun." With that he turned and punched John in the face.

John felt a sharp pain on his jaw and could taste blood inside his mouth. The second punch was harder and to his temple this time. For a moment the world went black. He could still hear but his sight had gone. It felt like a lifetime waiting for it to return. In reality it was only seconds and it returned just in time for John to see the fist coming towards him again. He braced himself. This time his nose took the full force and blood immediately ran down his face. Broken, he thought. His head started to swim from the punches as they kept coming one after another, after another. He felt sick from the blood and he was ready to pass out from the pain in his head. He'd lost count of how many he'd taken when the blows finally stopped. His head fell forward, he couldn't hold it up any longer. The pain was too much and he could feel his consciousness drifting.

The man grabbed his hair and pulled his head back sharply. John gritted his teeth and waited for the punches to start again but they didn't. The man spoke, not to him though, to the camera. "So Sherlock, suddenly your little friend here isn't looking so good. Well things can only get worse I assure you. Bet you can't wait for my next update. I know John here can't." The man let out a cruel laugh and pushed John's head forward so it fell against his chest. John tried but he didn't have the strength to raise it again, not even to make Sherlock think he was alright.

Out of the corner of his eye John saw the man go over and turn the camera off. He walked over to the table at the far end of the room and then returned to John holding his phone in his hand. "Tell me your code." he demanded. John didn't answer. The man grabbed his hair again and pulled his head back to look in his eyes. "I suggest that unless you want more of the same you tell me the code to unlock your phone." John remained silent. The man put John's phone in his pocket and then took hold of John's little finger on his right hand and twisted it until a snap was heard. John cried out in pain. He couldn't help himself even though he knew it was what his attacker wanted. The man just laughed. "Is access to your phone really worth all this extra pain?" he sneered.

John knew he was right. There was nothing on there that could do Sherlock any harm. No personal details the man could use. Just phone numbers he was pretty sure the man already knew. "6397" he muttered.

The man patted John's cheek "That's better." he told him and then let go of his hair. John tried to keep his head up, to watch what was going on but the pain was too much. His world started to spin and his head fell forward as his consciousness left him.

Lestrade watched Sherlock as he took the call. He could see the panic on his face. He heard the voice on the other end, it certainly wasn't John. "Sorry Sherlock, John is a little tied up at the moment. But you might want to check your email for an update to how he's doing." Lestrade heard him say.

"What have you done to him?" Sherlock demanded.

"Like I said, check your email Sherlock." The man laughed and then hung up.

"Does John have a phone tracking service set up do you know?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock still had his phone in his hand pressing buttons. "It's no use" he answered "it's turned off again." He rushed over to the computer and logged into his email. When he found what he was looking for he opened the attached video and both he and Lestrade watched in horror as they saw John beaten repeatedly about the face and head.

Sherlock felt hate for this man rising inside him. He couldn't bear to see his friend tortured like this. It was obviously because of him and he could do nothing to stop it. His anger overflowed as he grabbed the nearest thing to hand, an empty glass, and hurled it across the room. It smashed against the wall by the door just as Molly walked in.

"Sherlock!" she gasped. He stood staring at her, his face white, his whole body shaking. "What's going on? What's wrong?" she continued noticing the state of the man in front of her. Sherlock couldn't speak. He ran his hands over his face, through his hair and then slumped down in the nearest chair and held his head in his hands.

"It's John" Lestrade explained "He's been kidnapped and Sherlock has been sent a video of him being beaten"

"Oh my god!" Molly covered her mouth with her hand. As she composed herself she asked "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Molly and Lestrade looked at Sherlock who remained silent. "Sherlock how about a coffee? To help you focus?" Lestrade suggested.

"Of course." Molly nodded.

After she'd left the room Lestrade went to Sherlock and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Come on. We need to work on finding him."

Sherlock took a deep breath. He knew Lestrade was right. This wasn't doing John any good at all. He needed to focus. He ran his hands through his hair once more and then stood up. He went back over to the computer and looked at the computer screen. The man had used John's own email account to send the message so they couldn't identify him that way.

Sherlock thought for a moment and then he grabbed his phone. "Mycroft I need you to trace an IP address for me." he told his brother the moment he answered.

"Is this to find Dr Watson?"

"Yes. But I don't have time for questions. I need to find him."

"Send me the details and I'll get you the information you require."

Sherlock hung up the phone and copied the message header details into an email which he sent to his brother. Then he waited, hoping that this would be the clue he needed to find his friend.


	4. Chapter 4

Lestrade was just answering his phone when Molly brought in some coffee. She placed a cup in front of him and handed the other to Sherlock. She smiled. "Found anything?" she asked. Sherlock shook his head sadly. "You'll find him. I know you will."

Sherlock looked up at her. She always had such faith in him. Like John always had faith in him. He appreciated that. But right now he was letting John down. John was relying on him for help and he wasn't able to give it. He felt a helplessness that he'd never felt before.

Molly stood for a moment not sure what to do next. She watched Sherlock's expression change to one of resignation and wished there was something she could do. "Well if you need anything just let me know."

"Thank you Molly." she heard him say after she'd turned away. She looked behind her and gave him one more smile before leaving the room.

"Gov we've traced the van. It was stolen yesterday morning from The Docklands." Donavon was telling her boss.

"Great! Where is it now?"

"It's in Battersea. But it's burnt out. Don't think we'll get much from it."

"Well get forensics on it anyway. You never know. Let me know straight away if they find anything."

"Gov are you gonna tell me what this is about?"

Lestrade sighed and looked at Sherlock as he answered her "It's John Watson. He's been kidnapped. That's the van that was used to take him."

"Oh. Has the kidnapper made any demands?"

"Not yet." Lestrade watched as Sherlock turned away and walked to the other side of the room. Trying to compose himself, he thought. "Right well I've got to go. Keep me updated about the van."

Lestrade put his phone in his pocket before speaking to Sherlock. "They've found the van abandoned in Battersea." Sherlock nodded. "It's burnt out so probably nothing to help us but Donovan is going to get it checked out anyway. Do you want to look it over?"

"Stolen?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes"

"Then no. There'll be no clues there."

There was silence for a few minutes while Sherlock reviewed what he knew, trying to make sense of things, trying to find some information that he'd overlooked. But it was no use. This man was good he thought, but today that provided no enjoyment, today he just wanted to find John and save him any more pain.

Sherlock's phone beeped to signify the receipt of a text message. It was from Mycroft giving his brother the name and address of an Internet cafe, the one the kidnapper had used to email his video. Lestrade watched, waiting for Sherlock to share the information. As Sherlock caught his gaze he was confused for a second before realising what Lestrade expected. "Oh..um..the email was sent from an Internet cafe in central London. DAV15. Heard of it?"

Lestrade shook his head. "Can't say I have. Come on I'll take you over there so you can check it out. You never know someone might have seen something."

Sherlock stood for a moment. He didn't really expect to find anything but it was better than just sitting around waiting for another update. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

When they arrived at the cafe Lestrade went over to the counter to question the staff while Sherlock took a look around. He wasn't sure what he was looking for but he hoped something would stand out. He checked out the tables, including the ones with people sat at them much to their disgust. There were some computers on one side of the room. He looked them over, even thought he knew the kidnapper had used John's own phone to send the email. Sherlock knew the free public wifi was all he wanted. Anonymity in a crowd.

Lestrade walked over to him. As Sherlock looked up he shook his head. "Nothing" he said as he shrugged "No one remembers anyone or anything unusual. Apparently people sit in here with their hoods up on a regular basis. The manager is just getting the security recording for today so we can take a look but I don't hold out much hope. You find anything?"

Sherlock shook his head sadly. "He was just hiding in plain sight." he muttered. Right now he felt tired and despondent. It wasn't lack of sleep that was the problem, he was used to functioning on little or no sleep. The problem was knowing John was out there, hurt and in need of his help and there was absolutely nothing he could do. He just had to wait for the next update and hope there was something he could use. But another update meant more pain for John and he couldn't bear the thought of that.

Lestrade could see the hurt in Sherlock's eyes. "We will find him" he told Sherlock. "John's strong. I know he's suffering right now but he will be OK." Sherlock nodded even though he wasn't sure he believed what Lestrade was saying. He wanted it to be true. He needed it to be true. He was just struggling to understand how they were going to make it happen without any clues.

As they travelled back to Baker Street Lestrade glanced over at Sherlock and wondered what it was he was thinking.

Sherlock sat silently in the car trying to think through everything he'd received so far. There had to be something in there he could use to find John. But it was no use his mind kept wandering to his friend, his best friend and how he was suffering right now.

Suddenly he realised why John got so mad at him sometimes when they were working on a case. He treating things like a puzzle and ignored the human side. He worked better that way, he knew that. But now he saw what John saw when they worked. John knew that for every victim there was at least one person out there who felt exactly the way he did right now. He'd never understood that before.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time the man returned later that day John could barely see out of his left eye it was so bruised and swollen. The rest of his face wasn't looking any better either. The man stood admiring his handy work for a moment. "Ready for round 2 John?" He laughed as he walked over to the camera and got it ready to record. John felt the hate rising inside him as he watched the man walk away. He knew that whatever was coming in the next few minutes it was definitely not going to be pleasant.

When the man stood beside John again he spoke "So Sherlock what do you think?" He took hold of John's face roughly and pointed it towards the camera. He squeezed the bruises with his fingers making John wince from the pain. "The question is what area of his body do we want to damage this time? Any suggestions? No? Well I guess I'll have to decide for myself then won't I?" With that he released John's face and flexed his fingers for dramatic effect before making his hands into fists and setting about John's chest and stomach with a flurry of punches that took his breath away.

John groaned slightly as the punches landed. He gritted his teeth and tried his best to remain calm and quiet. He didn't want to give this bastard the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. Each punch felt harder than the last although John realised this might just be because the later punches were landing on areas already bruising from the earlier ones. One punch landed hard on his chest and John heard a crack. He knew one of his ribs had broken. His doctor's instincts kicked in as he tried to move slightly in the chair to protect this area from the punches that still reigned down. He knew that if another punch landed in that area it could push his already broken rib into his lung causing major problems as he wasn't likely to get it treated anytime soon.

More and more punches hit John's already battered body. Every one that landed caused a shockwave of agony to flow through him. He was finding it harder and harder to stay quiet. The pain was intense and all he really wanted to do was yell and scream but the soldier in him knew that would only make things worse. It would only inspire this sadist to carry on with this torment for longer.

After what seemed like a lifetime to John the punches finally stopped. Every breath he took was now its own kind of torture but that was to be expected with bruising all round his chest and at least one broken rib. John swallowed hard trying to get the pain under control. Trying not to let his attacker see how much agony he was actually in. The last thing he wanted to do was give him the satisfaction of seeing the discomfort he'd caused.

The man turned back towards the camera. "John's pretty tough isn't he? Didn't cry out once. I'm impressed." Then without warning he grabbed the middle finger on John's right hand and twisted it until it snapped. The sudden shock and intensity of the pain made John cry out. "There I knew that would work because I broke this one earlier when you weren't watching." With that he squeezed John's little finger that he'd broken before. Again John couldn't help but scream. The agony was just too much. "Just wanted you to hear him suffer Sherlock." The man laughed. "Oh and one last thing before I go. How's your brother? Hm? I'd like to be able to tell you how my brother is but I don't have one anymore." As he spoke these words John could hear the anger in his voice. The man suddenly turned and landed one last punch to John's ribs even harder than before. John heaved as the intense pain almost made him sick. Without another word the man turned and walked away.

When he was alone again John slowly moved himself in the chair. He needed to find the position that made it easiest for him to breathe because right now he was finding that difficult. Every breath was agony but he knew he had to breathe as normally as possible to prevent a chest infection making things worse. As he moved he felt every injury the man had inflicted. His whole body was a mass of pain. He felt tired and though part of him knew he should stay alert, ready in case the man returned and made a mistake that would offer him a way out, he let himself drift off to sleep to escape the pain and torture at least for a little while.


	6. Chapter 6

When they got back to Baker Street Mrs Hudson met them at the door. She looked hopefully at Sherlock. He just shook his head sadly and headed up the stairs. He couldn't talk to her, he felt like he'd let her down as well as John. He knew she must be feeling as concerned as he was and he had no news to offer. He was no closer to finding John Watson, finding the man that meant so much to both of them.

Lestrade briefly explained to Mrs Hudson what little they knew before following Sherlock up to the flat. "Cup of tea?" he asked. Sherlock shook his head. "Come on, you need to drink and eat. You'll be no use to John if you don't look after yourself." Sherlock didn't answer so Lestrade headed into the kitchen and made tea anyway.

A few minutes later he carried it into Sherlock and offered him some biscuits he'd found in the cupboard. Sherlock looked at the packet Lestrade was holding, then up at him and frowned. Lestrade just held the packet closer to Sherlock until he realised there was no saying no. Sherlock sighed and took one. Lestrade then placed the biscuits on the table next to the tea and sat down.

"Haven't you got any work to do?" Sherlock asked. He wasn't sure he wanted Lestrade to leave but he felt awkward not having any answers to give him. Lestrade was the one who came to him when he had no idea how to find a criminal but now it was him who had no clue.

"Nothing more important than this." was the answer Lestrade gave him and Sherlock smiled slightly. It was good to know how much people were prepared to do to help John. John was a good man after all. The best. He deserved it.

Lestrade did want to help John obviously but he also knew that right now Sherlock needed some support too. He'd never seen him distressed before but that was certainly what he was. You could see it on his face.

When Sherlock had eaten his biscuit and drunk his tea under the watchful eye of Lestrade he sat back in his chair to think. There was something niggling at the back of his mind. Something he felt he should remember. He was sure it had something to do with that Internet cafe but he just couldn't place it.

When the text came in a few hours later Sherlock's heart sank. He needed the clues to find John but to get to those clues he had to watch his friend get hurt. He opened his emails and pressed play on the video dreading what he'd see.

As he heard the question "So Sherlock what do you think?" he looked at a face that was barely recognisable. Sherlock heard Leastrade take a sharp breath behind him as they watched what happened next and although he didn't want to see he couldn't tear his gaze away from the screen. Sherlock stood frozen to the spot as he watched his best friend used as a punching bag. He could see the pain on John's face even thought he wasn't crying out.

Sherlock's relief when the man stopped punching was short lived as he saw him grab hold of John's finger and twist. When he heard the screams of pain that went with the breaking bones Sherlock's blood ran cold. So distraught was he, so desperate to be able to get to John and relieve his suffering that he almost didn't pick up on the spoken words at the end of the message. Especially when that last punch landed on John's ribs and he saw the look of defeat on his face. He looked so lost, so broken that Sherlock wanted to kill the person responsible. But right now he knew he needed to concentrate.

"What did he say?" he asked Lestrade.

"What?" Sherlock turned and looked at the DI. His face was white and he obviously hadn't paid attention either.

"He said something. Something important. Brother. He mentioned the word brother." Sherlock was busy taking the video back to the point after John's finger was broken. He had no desire to watch it again but he had to hear what was said. He knew it meant something.

"Oh one last thing before I go. How's your brother? Hm? I'd like to be able to tell you how my brother is but I don't have one anymore."

"Mycroft..."

"What could Mycroft have to do with this?" Lestrade asked, having made himself concentrate on the task in hand rather than what they'd just witnessed.

"I've no idea." Sherlock answered, frustratedly. "But something. Otherwise why mention him? And his brother too. It's a clue. It has to be."

Lestrade watched as Sherlock rubbed his temples with his fingers obviously trying to think.

Sherlock had so many things whirling around in his brain but none of it made sense. The Internet cafe. Mycroft. Brothers. What could it possibly all mean? "Aaarrrggghhh!" he yelled "I can't place it. I just can't."

"It's OK" Lestrade tried to reassure him "You will."

"It's not OK." he shouted back "John is being hurt because I'm being stupid. It's there in front of me. I know it is and I can't see it." Sherlock threw himself down in his chair annoyed at being such a fool. His brain always worked quickly, so why when his best friend needed him was he being so slow?


	7. Chapter 7

When John Watson woke the next morning he was relieved to see he was still alone. He knew it wouldn't last but for now he had time to think. He had no idea what this maniac wanted or why he was doing this except that it obviously had something to do with his brother and maybe Mycroft but those thoughts weren't going to help him anyway. I could try talking to him about his brother it might distract him he thought. He decided to give it a try although he didn't really hold out much hope of it working.

What he really needed to do was to find a way out of here although that seemed highly unlikely. There was no way of breaking his restraints the straps were too strong. There was no way of moving the chair it was bolted to the floor. So his only hope was to catch his attacker off guard. But how? He never touched the restraints or the chair so what chance was he going to have to even lay a finger on this mad man.

As John was processing these thoughts he heard the door creak open. He looked and saw the man entering with a small bag in his hand. John watched him carefully as he went over to the table. He couldn't see what was going on or what was in the bag but he dreaded to think what it might be. He took a breath and decided to try talking.

"So what happened to your brother?" John asked.

The man turned around and laughed. "So you think getting me talking will save you do you? Well I hate to disappoint you but it won't. I will tell you what happened to my brother but not just yet. I can't have you giving any clues to Sherlock now can I? He needs to work this out for himself. After all it's the only way he's going to find your body." He laughed again and then turned back to the table.

John was taken aback. This was it then. He was going to die here in an old, factory building. All the time, through all the pain he'd believed that Sherlock would get to him in time but now it seemed that wasn't going to happen. Now John had to think again. He knew Sherlock would find him but if he was dead what good would it do? This man was careful, his face was never on tape, he always wore gloves so no finger prints to tie him to the warehouse. The plan had changed then. The plan was not to escape, he knew he'd never manage that. The plan was leaving enough evidence for Lestrade to lock up this bastard and throw away the key.

John watched as the man finished what he was doing and went over to the camera and set it to record. As he walked over to John he could see a needle in his hand. John started to feel a panic inside him, what was that? What was he going to do to him?

The man noticed the change in John's expression and laughed. He turned to face the camera. "See your friend here, he's just seen this" he held up the needle to the camera "and he doesn't even know what's going to happen yet. So I'll explain. This is going to cause his death and you Sherlock will be searching for a body."

The man knelt down beside John and pulled at the sleeve on his right arm but he couldn't move it as it was held down by the straps that restrained him. John watched him place the needle on the floor so he could loosen the strap. This was his chance John thought, to get Lestrade the evidence he was going to need. He knew this was going to hurt and that his broken fingers were going to make it difficult but he had to try. He was certain that DNA evidence was the only way they would make a case against this man stick.

John waited patiently until he felt the straps loosen enough for him to put his plan into action. With one quick, sharp movement he pulled his right arm free and went straight for the man's neck, the only bare skin available to him. As he dragged his fingers nails along the man's skin John cried out from the pain caused by his broken bones but he was pleased to see a small spot of blood on the man's neck meaning he'd achieved what he'd set out to do. Under his nails would be the evidence that was needed, all he had to do now was hope that the man was too shocked to think about it.

Evidence wasn't what the man was thinking about right now, he was furious at John's attack and grabbed his broken fingers and squeezed with all his might. John let out a cry like a wounded animal, he felt tears well up in his eyes from the pain. The man yanked John's sleeve up his arm, slammed his hand back down on the chair and then pulled the strap as tight as he could around John's wrist before securing it.

With John once again secure in the chair the man took a deep breath. He picked up the needle from the floor. "Well Sherlock, it seems I underestimated your little friend here. He still has a bit of fight left in him, not that it will do him any good. Once I inject him with this it will be all over in a few hours. So John if you want to say goodbye now's your time."

Once again John heard that cruel laugh. There was so much he wanted to say but he was struggling to think and besides anything he said to his friend now would just be more ammunition for this man to taunt Sherlock with so he remained silent. He hoped that Sherlock already knew how much he meant to him. How he'd given him his life back when they'd first met. He hoped that Sherlock wouldn't think his silence meant he didn't care.

The man looked at the camera. "Well it seems he has nothing to say to you Sherlock. Oh well let's get on with it then shall we?" With that the man placed the needle into John's arm and John watched as the liquid was pushed into his vein. This really was it, his time was up. As John watched the man continued to speak "Well this has been an exciting operation but now it's time for me to leave. You really should have taught your friend here to be more careful when it comes to personal safety." The man removed the needle from John's arm and stood up. "Well Sherlock you have all the clues you need now to figure this out. If you hurry you might be able to say a personal farewell to Dr Watson here. But you'll have to be quick, he hasn't got much time left you know." And with a final laugh the man made his way over to the camera and turned it off.

When the camera was turned off and everything dismantled ready for him to take away the man walked over and stood looking down at John. "I did promise you I'd tell you about my brother didn't I? So I guess I should. My brother worked in a laboratory that was commissioned by the British Government to manufacture an untraceable poison. When some of it went missing a certain Mycroft Holmes got his little brother to take the case. Sherlock traced the poison to my brother. You see my brother was being threatened and that's why he stole it. The Holmes brothers didn't bother with such details though. Once they knew where the exchange was going to take place Mycroft sent in a team to get his poison back and my brother was killed in the crossfire. In this very room in fact. It's seems very apt that you should die here too don't you think? You see Sherlock will never be able to live with the fact that he couldn't solve this quick enough to save you and he will certainly never forgive Mycroft when he knows it was his poison that killed you. So they both loose people they care about in one way or another. Perfect isn't it?"

With that he turned, picked up his things and left John to die alone.


	8. Chapter 8

It had been a long night in Baker Street with no sleep for Sherlock and very little for Lestrade. He'd dozed a little while Sherlock sat silently but it was almost impossible to get any proper rest while waiting for the next update.

Sherlock had got Mycroft to check the IP address of the second email even though he was certain it would have come from the same Internet cafe. In the back of his mind he knew the cafe had something to do with this but at the moment he had no idea what. He'd never been to that cafe until yesterday and he didn't recognise anyone there. So what was it he couldn't place?

Mrs Hudson brought up some tea and toast for the two men and both she and Lestrade were doing their best to make sure Sherlock ate something. "You've got to eat Sherlock, keep your strength up." Mrs Hudson told him.

"You don't understand. Digestion just slows me down. I'll eat when it's over. I need to find John."

Sherlock had barely got the sentence out when his phone beeped to signify the receipt of a text. Lestrade looked up, the colour draining from his face. Sherlock grabbed his phone, as soon as he saw John's name on the screen he knew this was it and he went straight over to his laptop. Lestrade stood on shaky legs and went and stood with Sherlock. Mrs Hudson followed. Lestrade turned and placed his hands on the landlady's shoulders "You really don't need to see this." he told her. Mrs Hudson looked at him, a scared look in her eyes but refused to move.

As Sherlock pressed play and Mrs Hudson caught her first glimpse of the battered doctor she gasped. How could someone do that to another human being she wondered. As they watched the man loosen John's restraints and John break his arm free Sherlock shouted to his friend even though he knew it was no use. "No! John don't!" Sherlock flinched at the pain that followed and as Mrs Hudson heard his screams, tears began to roll down her cheeks. Her tears became sobs however, when she saw what happened next. When she saw, this awful man, condemn her friend to death.

Lestrade stood frozen to the spot for a moment before regaining his composure and wrapping his arms around the heartbroken landlady and trying to comfort her. Sherlock had listened to what the man had said but there was one bit that was playing on his mind. One sentence that wasn't natural and Sherlock knew it meant something more. "Well this has been an exciting operation but now it's time for me to leave. You really should have taught your friend here to be more careful when it comes to personal safety." It kept playing over and over in his mind.

He had all the clues the man had said. He needed to think. He needed to concentrate but all he could hear was Mrs Hudson sobbing. "Take her downstairs" he yelled at Lestrade "I can't concentrate with all that damned crying going on." Lestrade glared at him like John always did and Sherlock knew he was being unkind but right now that didn't matter, all that mattered was finding John before it was too late.

Lestrade led Mrs Hudson from the room as Sherlock stood fingers on his temples thinking, concentrating hard on all the things he knew mattered. The Internet cafe, Mycroft, brother and that unnatural sentence. What did it mean? All these things were whirling around inside Sherlock's head until finally something fell into place. It wasn't the cafe itself that mattered it was the name. DAV15. Davis. So what did that name have to do with Mycroft? Suddenly it all became clear. Davis was the man who had stolen the untraceable poison. He was killed by Mycroft's men and the project was called Operation Safety. That was the clue in the sentence. This was it he realised and all of a sudden he knew exactly where to find his friend.

Sherlock was just grabbing his coat as Lestrade came back up the stairs. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I know." Sherlock told him "I know where John is. Quick we need to get to him."

"Right." Lesatrade was running down the stairs with Sherlock right behind him. They both headed out of 221B and over to Lestrade's car. "Where am I going?"

"Old abandoned industrial building in Brentford. Dock Road."

As Lestrade took off down Baker Street with sirens blaring Sherlock was on the phone to his brother. When Mycroft answered Sherlock didn't give him time to speak. "Mycroft, Operation Safety, you do still have the antidote don't you?"

"Sherlock do be more discreet. These things are of national importance you..."

"I don't care about your national importance. John has been injected with some of your missing poison and I need the antidote now."

"Where is he and I'll have it delivered?" Mycroft told him. He decided it was better to worry about who knew what after John Watson was safe. He knew Sherlock would never forgive him if anything happened to his friend.

"The old warehouse in Brentford where Davis was killed. You remember?"

"How could I forget. I'll have someone bring it to you." With that Mycroft hung up and made the necessary calls to get what Sherlock needed.

As Lestrade tore through the streets of London he asked "So what's all this about?"

"An old case of Mycroft's" Sherlock told him "There was some poison stolen from a laboratory owned by the government. I tracked it down for him and when they went in after it the thief was killed. After the man's death his brother insisted that he had only stolen the poison because he was being threatened but there was no evidence to support that claim. Mycroft never said but I had my suspicions that not all of the poison had been recovered. It would seem I was right."

"So how deadly is this stuff?"

"Without the antidote, there's no hope." Sherlock sighed. He had to believe they would be in time to save John. There couldn't be another outcome. There just couldn't.


	9. Chapter 9

When they arrived at Dock Road, Sherlock ran into the building with Lestrade right behind him. He was terrified about what he might find but he knew he had to get to John. He stopped abruptly as he entered the room and saw his friend still tied to the chair. His bruised and swollen face looked even worse in real life and Sherlock could hear just how difficult it was for him to breath.

"Come on." Lestrade said to him and put a hand gently on his back to ease him forward.

Sherlock came to his senses and went over to John. Up close he could see the effects the poison was having. John was starting to sweat and Sherlock could see his skin was pale between the bruises. Sherlock knelt beside him and placed his hand gently on his friends arm. "John" he said quietly. The doctor opened his eyes and looked over at him. "Everything's going to be OK."

"No Sherlock. I think this is it." John wheezed "I'm going to die."

"No don't say that. The antidote is on its way. Mycroft is sending it over. Just hang in there. Please."

Sherlock went to undo the straps around John's wrists.

"No Sherlock stop. Don't."

"It's OK John. I'll be careful I promise. I won't hurt you."

"No." John tried to smile "The evidence."

"What?"

"Under my nails. Skin. I collected evidence for Greg."

Sherlock sighed. So that's what he'd been doing. He'd been so concerned about John's pain he hadn't even stopped to think why he did what he did.

"It's OK John. I'll take care of it." Lestrade told him. "You did a great job. Now concentrate on staying with us until the antidote arrives."

"Sherlock"

"Yes John."

"I need you to know, the only reason I didn't say goodbye to you..." he was struggling to breath or speak now.

"It's OK" Sherlock told him "Save your breath, I know."

Sherlock watched as John's eyelids started to flutter. He was losing him. John couldn't die, he wouldn't let him.

"John. John. Please stay with me." Sherlock grabbed his phone and dialled Mycroft. "Where are they?" he yelled as Mycroft answered "John's dying. Where are they?"

"They're on their way Sherlock. Just hold on a moment." Mycroft put his mobile on the desk and picked up his landline. "How far away are you?" he asked. Then a moment later he placed the phone back down and picked up his mobile once more. "They're a minute away Sherlock. That's all."

"I'll go outside and wait for them." Lestrade told Sherlock.

"Did you hear that John. They're nearly here. You've got to hold on."

John forced his eyes open to look at Sherlock but it was all so much of an effort now. He wasn't sure he could do what Sherlock asked of him. As his eyes started to close once more he could hear voices around him.

"Give that to me." Sherlock demanded to the man in the black suit who had just entered the room. The man handed him a syringe full of liquid which Sherlock carefully injected into his best friends arm. Now there was nothing more he could do. He just had to hope and pray that he was in time.

As Sherlock sat back he became aware that the man in the black suit was talking to someone. "Yes sir, your brother has given him the antidote. Ok sir." The man held his phone out towards Sherlock. "Your brother would like to talk to you."

"Yes." Sherlock snapped.

"How's he doing?" Mycroft asked.

"I don't know." was all Sherlock could say.

"Well there is a specialist unit on their way to take care of him. They'll be with you in two minutes. He will be airlifted to a private hospital. They have been fully briefed of the situation and have been told to do everything within their power to help him. I'm sure he'll be alright Sherlock."

"I hope so Mycroft. I hope so." Mycroft heard the tone of Sherlock's voice, full of accusation. He knew that if Dr Watson didn't make it, things would never be the same between him and his little brother again.

As they heard the helicopter approaching the man in the black suit went outside to greet them. Moments later he led the medical team into the warehouse. They approached John and started to carefully check him over. As they did the doctor spoke to Sherlock. "Right I know about the poison he was injected with and I understand you've administered the antidote. Is that right?" Sherlock nodded. "Well that's good. What else can you tell me about his condition?"

"He's been missing about 52 hours." Sherlock told them "He's been beaten about the head, face, chest and stomach. At least two of his fingers on his right hand are broken." Sherlock's voice cracked as he spoke.

"It's OK." the doctor told Sherlock "We'll take good care of him now."

As the doctor and paramedic started to undo all of John's restraints, careful not to move him at this stage Lestrade spoke. "He has DNA evidence under the nails on his right hand. He wanted us to make sure we collected it."

"OK has anyone got a plastic bag?" the doctor asked.

"I have in the car." Lestrade told them.

"Well if you fetch it we'll carefully put his hand in that to get him to the hospital and then you can have a team meet us there to retrieve the evidence before we deal with his fingers. How's that?"

"Thank you." Lestrade said and went to find a plastic bag for the doctor.

The doctor carried on with her examination. "OK well he appears to have at least one broken rib so we need to be careful as we move him. No doubt there will be some concussion as well." She looked at Sherlock's concerned face and added "But your friend here seems to be amazingly strong so don't give up hope. Let's get him to the hospital and take it from there shall we."

When Lestrade had returned with the plastic evidence bag and John's hand had been carefully placed inside it the medical team set about gently moving him from the chair onto the stretcher. They hooked him up to a drip to rehydrate him and oxygen to help with his breathing and then wheeled him out to the helicopter.

As the medical team were placing John inside the doctor turned to Sherlock and Lestrade. "I'm afraid there isn't enough room for you to travel with us but I promise we will take really good care of your friend. You can meet us at St Georges hospital." With that she smiled and got into the helicopter beside John.

Sherlock watched sadly as they took off and flew away.


	10. Chapter 10

Lestrade made his way through the London traffic as quickly as he could. When he arrived at the hospital he was pleased to see the man from forensics had made it there before him. As he and Sherlock walked down the corridor Lestrade saw him walking towards them. "Did you get what we needed?" he asked the man.

"Yes Gov. He did a good job. There was plenty of skin under his thumb nail we should get DNA easily from that."

Lestrade smiled. Ever practical eh John, he thought. "So how is he?"

"I don't know. They didn't tell me anything. But they didn't seem overly rushed or panicked about anything so I guess that's a good sign. He's through there." the man said pointing to a door behind him.

"OK thanks Tim."

With that Sherlock and Lestrade walked towards the doors Tim had just pointed to. When they got there Sherlock paused, hand on the door and took a deep breath. He wanted to see John but he wasn't sure he was ready for this. "You OK?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock nodded and pushed open the door. He could see John lying on a bed across the other side of the room surrounded by doctors and nurses. His body looked battered and broken Sherlock thought.

The doctor from the helicopter was talking to her team. She looked up at Sherlock and smiled as she continued. "We need to make sure there are no other internal injuries from the beating. So everyone know what they've got to do?"

The rest of the team either answered "Yes" or nodded.

"OK well I'm going to have a quick word with Mr Holmes and then I'll be back to see how we're doing." With that she removed her gloves and headed over to Sherlock and Lestrade. "Come with me please." She said and ushered Sherlock & Lestrade out through the door. She led them into a small room across the hall. "Take a seat"

"How is he?" Sherlock asked.

She smiled "Well we are taking x-rays so we can see the extent of the damage to his fingers and check how many ribs are broken. We're checking for any other internal injuries from the beating but there's no sign of any so far. His fever is dropping and his blood pressure is stabilising. We won't know for sure that the antidote was administered in time for a couple of hours" the doctor watched Sherlock's face fall and she placed her hand on his arm "but so far things are looking good. I can say one thing for certain, he's fighting and that's the best sign. He hasn't given up and you shouldn't either. Is there anything you want to know?" Sherlock shook his head. "Right well as soon as we have all the test results back and we've got him settled in his own room I'll take you to him. There's a coffee machine down the hall to the left if you want it. OK?" The doctor smiled again and stood to leave.

Lestrade got up and shook her hand "Thank you doctor."

As the doctor left Lestrade heard Sherlock sigh. He turned and saw him sat with his head in his hands. "I'm sure he'll be fine you know."

Sherlock glared at Lestrade. "Really? She just said that she couldn't tell if I'd got to him in time for another few hours. So how can you tell he'll be fine? What if he isn't? What if I failed him, let him down? What then?" Sherlock turned away tears in his eyes.

"Look Sherlock you know that a doctor can't give you false hope. She had to tell you the facts and yes they may not know for certain that the antidote was administered in time for a few hours but she did tell you the signs were good. His temperature is dropping, his blood pressure stabilising and he's fighting. He's a strong man you know that Sherlock. Why would he give up now?"

"But he thought it was the end." Sherlock said weakly. "You heard him say this was it."

"Yes Sherlock I did but he's fighting. You've got to believe in him Sherlock. If anyone can make it he will."

Sherlock looked Lestrade in the eye wanting to make sure he really believed what he was saying. Then he nodded. They were talking about the man, who with broken fingers still managed to collect DNA evidence so this bastard wouldn't get away with his crime. As he thought about that Sherlock smiled "I guess you're right." he muttered.

"Right well while we're waiting there's some stuff I need to do. For starters who did this Sherlock? I need to get him picked up."

"The man's name is Robert Davis and as for picking him up I don't think you'll need to worry. I suspect Mycroft's men will have done that already. After all it is of national importance you know. Didn't you hear Mycroft tell me that?" Sherlock gave a small grin.

Lestrade shook his head and laughed. "Fine I'll check with Mycroft. I'll call Mrs Hudson and Molly as well let them know what's going on. Do you want me to fetch a drink on my way back? Tea? Coffee?"

"Coffee." Sherlock answered.

"OK well I won't be long." and with that Lestrade left the room to make his phone calls.

When Lestrade had gone Sherlock thought about his friend lying in the other room. John was strong and he would fight, Sherlock knew that but he wished he'd got to him sooner. He wished he worked it out quicker so he could have saved John some of the pain and suffering. John was always so impressed by the way he worked but just this once Sherlock wished he'd been better.


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock sat alone waiting for news. This had all been torture he thought, for John obviously, for him watching and not being able to help and now this. This was another type of torture, waiting to see if he'd been in time, if he'd actually saved John. He decided one thing, no matter how bored he got in the future he was never going to wish for a case like this again.

A short time later Lestrade entered with two cups of coffee. As he handed one to Sherlock he said "Well I've told Mrs Hudson and Molly what's going on. I also told them to stay where they are as there's nothing anyone can do right now. I said I'd them I call them as soon as we had any news. Oh and you were right about Mycroft. Robert Davis is already in his custody and I'm sworn to secrecy. National importance and all that." Lestrade grinned. Sherlock tried to smile but he didn't really manage it. He didn't feel like smiling. There was nothing to smile about. Not yet anyway.

Lestrade sat in the chair next to Sherlock and together they waited. It was a long agonising wait even though it was only about half an hour before the doctor returned. When she entered both men stood desperate for news. The doctor gestured for them to sit back down and she took a seat in front of them.

Sherlock stared at the doctor. "It's bad news isn't it?" he muttered.

"No" the doctor said "It's not any sort of news really. Like I said before it will be a few hours before we can say for certain the antidote has worked. He was in quite a bad way when we got to him you know that." She watched as Sherlock dropped his head. "However, what I can say is his temperature although still a little elevated is a lot lower than when I first saw him. His blood pressure is normal, so that's good. And the one thing I know for certain is he's a strong individual and he's fighting with everything he's got. As for his other injuries well although he took quite a beating he's been lucky really. He has one broken rib but it hasn't punctured his lung which is always a concern. He has two broken fingers as you know but the bones seem to have aligned nicely so we've strapped them and they should heal well. Other than that he has a lot of bruising and swelling but there are no signs of any other internal injuries." The doctor smiled at Sherlock and Lestrade "This really is as good as you could hope for at this stage so don't give up hope." She stood. "We've got him settled in his own room so would you like to sit with him now?"

Sherlock nodded and was on his feet immediately. "Thank you." Lestrade said as he stood too.

They followed the doctor down the corridor and into a room where John lay partially propped up surrounded by monitors, wires and tubes. "It's really not as bad as it looks" the doctor reassured them. "The oxygen is just to give him a little help. We obviously need to monitor his vital signs until we know he's completely out of the woods and we've given him pain medication to help make him comfortable. Other than that it's just time to let his body heal. I'm available if you have any questions just ask a nurse to find me. I'm Doctor Flynn." Lestrade shook her hand once more before she left the room.

Sherlock stood and looked at John. His face so swollen it didn't really look like his friend at all. His right hand was heavily strapped to keep his fingers from moving and every bit of skin that Sherlock could see was black and blue. Sherlock touched his arm gently "I'm so sorry John." he muttered.

Lestrade looked over at him "This isn't your fault Sherlock. There's only one person to blame for this and he's in the custody of your brother."

"I should have worked it out sooner. I was too slow. And John might die..."

"Stop it!" Lestrade ordered him. "I know the doctor said he isn't out of the woods yet but she also said he's fighting. So you have to be strong too Sherlock. You have to believe he will make it. You have to believe in him. OK?"

Sherlock looked at his friend "I do believe in him. But all this pain was because of me. He was taken because of something I did and I couldn't even stop him from being hurt."

"No one could have stopped this Sherlock. No one. John knows that. He would never blame you for this and you shouldn't blame yourself." Sherlock sat down beside John hoping that what Lestrade had said was true. He didn't like to think of John blaming him for this, even though he knew he'd never stop blaming himself.

The time passed slowly for the two of them just watching John lying there motionless. The nurses came in every so often, checked on him, wrote in his notes and then left again. Eventually after what felt like a lifetime the doctor entered the room. She checked on John, read his notes and then spoke to Sherlock and Lestrade. "I think it's probably safe to say that your friend is through the worst of this." she smiled as she heard the pair of them let out a sigh of relief. "All of his vital signs have been stable for a few hours now so that would indicate that the antidote has worked. Obviously we will continue to monitor him until he wakes but I wouldn't really expect that to be until the morning. He's had a rough time, his body needs rest to recover. You might be more comfortable waiting at home. We'd call you if there was any change."

"No" Sherlock replied quickly "I want to be with him when he wakes."

"OK that's fine." the doctor told him and with that she left them alone again.

"You OK?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock just nodded. "Right well I'm going to step outside for a few minutes and update everyone. Let them know he's going to be alright. You want anything while I'm up?"

"No." Sherlock answered and then hearing John prompt him in his head he added "Thank you."

"I won't be long." Lestrade told him as he left the room.


	12. Chapter 12

Left alone with John, Sherlock felt like there was so much he should say even if John might not hear him but he couldn't find the words. He reached out and gently touched his friend's arm. "I'm sorry John." he told him again. "I'd have given anything to have stopped this. I'm sorry I wasn't quicker getting to you. I just couldn't work it out. I was an idiot and I'm sorry."

Sherlock dropped his head. "It wasn't your fault."

For a moment Sherlock thought he'd imagined it. Even when he looked up at John he didn't realise he was awake. His face was still so swollen it was hard to tell if his eyes were open. It was only when he tried to move slightly and groaned that Sherlock was sure.

He reached out to John. "No you mustn't move. Lie still. I'll fetch a nurse."

John reached out his left hand and took hold of Sherlock's arm. "Wait." he told him. Sherlock stopped and looked at his friend. "I mean it. This wasn't your fault. You did everything you could. I know that."

Sherlock gave a half hearted smile. It was good of John to say that but he still didn't really believe it.

"So what's the damage?" John asked.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock looked confused.

"How many broken ribs? I know at least one went."

"Yes just the one."

"Two fingers then, one rib. Anything else?"

"No" Sherlock told him "The doctor said you were lucky there were no other internal injuries just swelling and bruising."

"Good. That's good." Again John moved slightly and again he groaned. Sherlock winced at his pain. "So how did you save me? That man seemed to think the poison would be the end of me?" John vaguely remembered a conversation with Sherlock at the warehouse but the memories were foggy.

"There was an antidote. I made Mycroft get you some."

John laughed and then moaned from the pain. "Good old Mycroft."

"Good old Mycroft? If he hadn't given instructions for that poison to be invented then you wouldn't be in this mess."

"We can't change the past Sherlock. I'm sure this wasn't what Mycroft intended when he gave that order."

"I guess not." Sherlock muttered. He was still a bit mad at his big brother.

"Look none of that matters. You got to me in time and got the antidote from Mycroft. Thank you. You saved my life Sherlock."

"It was my fault you were there in the first place."

"No. You saved my life." John continued to look at Sherlock his hand still on his arm. Sherlock looked back at him and eventually John felt his arm relax like he'd finally accepted what John was saying.

Sherlock sighed and gave a small smile. He saw John wince with pain once more as he tried to straighten himself up in bed. "I'm going to get that nurse now. There must be something she can give you for the pain."

"Thanks Sherlock."

As Sherlock left the room he bumped into Lestrade. "Have you seen a nurse? I need a nurse?" he said urgently.

Lestrade panicked "Is John OK?" he asked.

"What? Oh yes. He's awake but he's in pain. I need a nurse."

Lestrade heaved a sigh of relief. "You gave me a fright there for a minute. Look you go and sit with John, I'll find the nurse." And with that Lestrade headed back down the corridor.

A few minutes later he returned with a nurse and the doctor who'd treated John earlier. "Well John you're even tougher than I thought. I certainly didn't expect you to be awake just yet." She smiled "Let me check you over and then we'll set up pain medication for you so that you can administer a dose when you need it." She checked the readings on his machines and noted his charts. "Well you have a broken rib" she started.

"Yes Sherlock told me. But no other internal injuries right?"

"That's right. You were lucky."

"So just the rib to be careful with."

"Yes. We'd like to keep you in for a couple of days anyway. Make sure there are no other problems, after all it was a substantial beating that you took. But if everything goes according to plan I see no reason why you can't go home after that. I take it there will be someone there to look after you?"

"Yes." Sherlock answered for him.

The doctor smiled. "Right well let's get this pain medication set up and then I want you to rest." She turned to Sherlock and Lestrade "Now we know your friend is OK I want you two to go home. You can come back and see him tomorrow."

"But..." Sherlock started.

"No buts. You have five minutes while we get the pain meds sorted and that's it." With that she turned and walked away talking to the nurse about what she wanted set up for John.

"Well we better leave you in the capable hands of the medical staff then." Lestrade grinned at John. "It's good to see you awake."

"Thanks Greg." he replied.

Sherlock stood and looked at his friend. He didn't really want to leave him. He still wasn't totally sure he was alright. As if he could read his mind John said "I'm fine Sherlock. Or at least I will be in a few weeks once my rib and fingers have healed. Go home. Get some sleep and I'll see you tomorrow."

"OK goodnight." Sherlock finally conceded and left the room with Lestrade.

The following day when Sherlock returned with Mrs Hudson, John looked more comfortable. His pain medication was obviously working Sherlock thought. John gave as much of a smile as his swollen face would allow but Mrs Hudson was still shocked by what she saw. She felt tears well up in her eyes and tried desperately to stop them from falling. "It looks worse than it is." John told her. "Really it just needs a couple of days for the swelling to go down and the bruises to fade."

Mrs Hudson walked over to him and gently kissed him on his forehead. She was too choked up to speak. John reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

Sherlock had remained by the door. He still found it hard looking at John's injuries. "You coming in or what?" John joked. Sherlock wandered over. John looked at their faces and could read just how hard this had been for them. "What? Do I really look that bad?" he asked. Finally they smiled.

"Truthfully?" Sherlock said "Yes I'm afraid you do." John laughed.

"Yeah well, it gets me the sympathy vote." The ice broken John continued. "Well the doctor says she's pretty certain I can come home the day after tomorrow so that's good."

"Really?" asked Mrs Hudson concerned "Isn't that too soon?"

"No, most of my injuries are superficial. Like I said it looks worse than it is. I'll need to take it easy for a few weeks because of my rib and obviously be careful with the fingers but other than that everything is looking fine."

"Oh well we can take care of you. Can't we Sherlock? And I'll make sure there's cake for when you get home." Mrs Hudson told him.

"Thanks Mrs H. I'm looking forward to it already."

Sherlock was pleased that John was doing so well and it was good to hear him laughing but he couldn't shake his feelings of guilt. "John" he said eventually "I am sorry you know."

"I told you yesterday this wasn't your fault. You saved my life." John suddenly wondered whether Sherlock thought he blamed him because he didn't say goodbye on the tape. "Sherlock the reason I didn't say goodbye..."

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does. It wasn't because I didn't want to and it certainly wasn't because I held you in anyway responsible. I just knew that whatever I said, that man would use it to taunt you, to hurt you and I couldn't let him do that."

Sherlock looked at John "I would have given anything to stop your pain."

John looked at the hurt on his friends face. He knew it was going to take a while for Sherlock to forgive himself for this even though there was nothing he could have done to stop it. He placed his hand on Sherlock's arm, looked at him and said "I know you would Sherlock. I know you would."


End file.
